Bittersweet Symphony
by nlizzette7
Summary: "He counts the places she used to touch him with shaky fingers, tries to erase her, tries to keep her there. But he can't have both. He can't have either." - B/C one-shot, not for the easily heartbroken.


_They summoned Eurydice and gave her to him, but upon one condition: that he would not look back at her as she followed him, until they had reached the upper world. So the two passed through the great doors of Hades to the path which would take them out of the darkness, climbing up and up. He knew that she must be just behind him, but he longed unutterably to give one glance to make sure. But now they were almost there, the blackness was turning gray; now he had stepped out joyfully into the daylight. Then he turned to her. It was too soon; she was still in the cavern. He saw her in the dim light, and he held out his arms to clasp her; but on the instant she was gone. She had slipped back into the darkness. All he heard was one faint word, "Farewell." _**- Ann Woodlief**

* * *

He spends his days walking the thin line between life and death, quick breaths, never too long, never heavy enough to remind him that _Chuck Bass _still exists without her. And now that she's gone, she's taken everything else with her, and he hates her for that. Hates that it had to be _all or nothing _with them.

They had it all.

And now he's left with nothing.

Whiskey burns down his throat, and he can barely feel the needle sink into his arm, and he's a ticking time bomb. Chuck started off without her, back when she belonged to Nathaniel, when he was lost, and he can finish the same way. She is not the steady hand who will pull him off rooftops anymore.

She is not anything.

Chuck opens his eyes, and he sees darkness. Maybe he's going blind.

_If only he were that lucky._

He counts the places she used to touch him with shaky fingers, tries to erase her, tries to keep her there. But he can't have both.

He can't have either.

Chuck goes for another drink because _why the fuck not_? He stumbles [crawls] to the bar in a haze of stars and red dresses on Parisian nights. His hand grasps the bottle's neck, squeezes with his white-knuckled fist. He goes to pour it into a glass, but the sight before him sends the bottle straight to the floor,

into

tiny

broken

pieces.

Just like him.

There's a glass there, her favorite, half filled with a gin martini. He stares at it, blinks, stares again. On the rim, there's a bright red lip print, carefully placed, not sloppy at all. Exactly how she would have left it.

Chuck swallows, but the bitterness on his tongue remains. He bites the inside of his cheeks, dares himself to look up.

And he does.

He sees her legs first, black pumps and smooth skin – legs he worshipped for hours on end. And then the black dress wrapped around her curves so tightly that it's fucking sinful. But that _face _is the face of an angel, the naughtiest innocence he'd ever laid eyes on, framed by luscious black curls.

"Bass," Blair says, eyes trained steadily on his. "Did you miss me?"

Chuck clutches at his heart, backs away. He yanks at the fabric covering his chest, fighting to catch his breath. Any minute now he'll wake up, and she won't be there. She can't be there, not now. Not ever because –

Because Blair Waldorf died seven months ago.

:::

A car.

That's what did it.

All of that time she'd spent praying for _him _after their accident two years ago, and she forgot to pray for herself. Blair had been speaking to _him _on the phone, crossing the street with her arms filled with shopping bags. Clothes for him, teasing him about the surprise that was awaiting him.

It was his birthday.

He heard the impact, the crackle of the phone falling to the pavement. He screamed, fell to his knees, and he couldn't do _anything_. Chuck was paralyzed, sobbing at the receiver, listening to the drags of her last breaths. Before the phone died, before it cut him off, he heard the rasp of her voice.

"I love you," she'd said.

Three words and eight letters.

And he can't help but find it all so fucking ironic.

He didn't get the chance to say it back.

:::

"You're not real."

"Oh, I'm real," Blair replies, coming down from her perch on the bar. "And getting really tired of this unkempt Bass look." She takes a step towards him. "You know how I loved you clean-shaven. My handsome man."

Chuck swallows, tries to find the words to say to her, but they don't come. _They never have, have they? _He watches as she reaches out her hand, places it on his cheek. He is electrified by her touch, fireworks erupting under his skin. He closes his eyes, leans into her.

"You're not real," Chuck rasps. "And it's going to kill me."

"Oh, well," Blair sighs, "it's a little too late for me." She lets out a dark chuckle, but her eyes are hard. He winces at the joke, not finding it funny in the slightest. He grasps her arms, digs his fingers into her skin.

He doesn't want to hurt her. He just –

Just wants to –

To keep her _there_.

"You left me," he spits.

Blair lets him shake her, lets him be angry with her. His head falls to her chest, shaky fingers clutching at the weak fabric of her dress.

"What are you doing, Bass?" Blair murmurs, pulling her fingers through his hair. It's long again, and just like when Bart died – _the first time_. She doesn't want to see this boy again, doesn't want to remember her first broken heart.

"I can't do this without you," he says, his voice so painfully broken. She hates this sound, of a great man who's fallen. "I can't – _Exist."_

Blair wants to be selfish, wants to say that she can't either.

But that's not why she's there. That's not how this works.

"So, you're going to do this to me?" she asks, her voice unwavering. "All of the time I waited for you to build this life for yourself, all of the pain that _saving _this hotel cost us. And you're going to let it fall apart?"

"But – "

"Be the _man_ I know, Chuck." Blair grasps his face in her hands, her fingers soft and cold. _Blair, but not Blair._ "Don't run away from this. Because _this _is us. Everything we fought for is here."

And his eyes aren't so empty when she looks again. Chuck nods, lets her lead him to his bed. She pulls the covers over him like she used to, digs her chin into his shoulder. He fights sleep, desperate to cling onto the tiny arms wrapped around him. But it comes anyway.

And by the morning, Blair is gone.

:::

When Lily wakes up on the other side of town, there's a purple bowtie resting on the pillow next to her. She runs a finger over the stiff silk, feeling something tug sharply at her chest. She's never believed in ghosts, and maybe she still doesn't.

But as she pulls her robe around her, she swears that she can see a matching purple headband, smell a whiff of Chanel No. 5, and hear whispers draped over the walls.

Whispers that sound a lot like _try again try again try again._

She makes it to The Empire in twenty minutes.

The apartment is in shambles, and Chuck is sitting in the middle of it all, the same broken boy that she adopted seven years ago. And when she wraps her arms around him, he doesn't pull away like he did at the funeral.

Chuck presses his face into Lily's neck, holds her to him.

It's a broken whisper that comes next. One that sounds a lot like, "_Mom_."

"I'm here, Charles," Lily says, unable to keep the tears at bay. And there comes the perfume again, the click of heels that will never stop in front of them again. "And she's here. She's here too."

:::

It's a year before Blair comes again.

He's made the Forbes list, and there's a party being thrown in his honor. His heart stops when he sees the single cut peony on his pillow as he's getting ready. He swallows, blinks. When he looks again, she's there instead.

She's wearing pink, almost like she dressed in the flower herself.

"Blair," Chuck breathes, dropping to the bed in front of her. He doesn't waste a second this time, just pulls her in for a kiss that leaves them both breathless. She smiles, gently pushing him away.

_Because that just makes it worse._

_Because she has to leave again._

"You look so handsome," Blair whispers. There are tears in her eyes, but she can't cry anymore. She doesn't know why, but she's glad for it. "I would give anything to be on your arm tonight." She pats the lapel of his suit, fixes his tie.

Chuck holds her chin, and he swears that he can feel his heart splitting right in two. He wants to keep her there, wants to hide with her forever. But her eyes are already saying goodbye.

"I will _always _love you," Blair whispers, pressing her forehead to his. She repeats the words like she said them yesterday, closes her eyes to hold in the hurt. "The worst thing you'll ever do, the darkest thought you'll ever have. I'll be right here." She lays her hand flat over his heart and shoots him a small smile. "We're Chuck and Blair. Even now, we're inevitable."

"Please don't do this to me," Chuck begs. "I'll do anything if you stay. We can figure this out. We can make it work."

Blair shakes her head, avoiding his eyes. "Good timing was never our strong suit. I need you to let go, Chuck. I need to let you go."

"Blair, I love you so much," he says, gripping her hands in his. He kisses her again, and he knows that it's the last. The tears come, coating their lips, salt on their wounds, and it's the _best _worst thing he's ever felt in his life.

And when he pulls away, he's alone again.

He's left with the indent of her on his bed, an ounce of proof that it actually happened. And a whisper in the air.

_I am so proud of you, Chuck_.

:::

He does find someone.

It's ten years later, and her name is Ella. It breaks Blair's heart, and then puts it right back together.

It will never be what they had.

But at least he's not alone.

Blair wishes that he would stop looking for her, stop seeing her when he's supposed to be loving his new wife. But sometimes that's the way life is. You meet the one person who you were meant to be with, and you can never go back. Things are never the same. Chuck and Blair are tied together by a string that can stretch as far as life itself.

It's not something you can sever.

It's not something you can duplicate. _She _will always be the first Mrs. Bass. His one and only.

They're going to be together again one day. But he deserves to find someone who will remind him that he has the biggest heart she's ever known. Blair watches them, forces the smile on her face because she knows that he'll wait for her.

[And it's never really the end with them, now is it?]

Across the room, Ella tugs at Chuck's suit. "Do you know that woman? She's been staring at you for a while."

He looks up, catches the swing of brown hair, the glimmer in her eyes. He jerks up, wants to go to her, but she shakes her head. Blair smiles over her shoulder as she walks away, and the world tilts, time stops like it did on that very first night in Victrola.

"Chuck?" Ella insists. "Who was that girl?"

He smiles, shakes his head as she disappears, leaving him with a wholeness in his heart that he hasn't felt since that cold day in Central Park, dressed all in white.

And it's been seventeen years.

_And he finally knows._


End file.
